


Burning Holes in Your Skin

by starsapart



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-05-28 02:53:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6312511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsapart/pseuds/starsapart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fushimi Saruhiko has two burn marks on his body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [peppersnot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppersnot/gifts).



> “One day you fall for this boy. And he touches you with his fingers. And he burns holes in your skin with his mouth. And it hurts when you look at him. And it hurts when you don’t. And it feels like someone’s cut you open with a jagged piece of glass.”  
> Maureen Medved, The Tracey Fragments

Fushimi Saruhiko has two burn marks on his body.

The first is the burn mark on his chest, and he wears it with pride.  When he looks at it, he sees Misaki's distressed face, smells fire and burnt flesh, and feels proud to have destroyed their friendship in such a terrible, violent way, that none of them will be able to ever forget. His (former) partner might have forgotten to look his way and whatever feelings were shared between were fading so rapidly he could see them disappear before his eyes, but this. This was permanent. Stronger. It wasn't such a big sacrifice to let go of this precious and gentle thing, because precious and gentle things break in a way dark and things don’t.

The second burn mark, though, that one is a secret. It’s been there for as long as he can remember, on the inside of his upper right arm, mocking him, a tone darker than the surrounding skin. Usually, it is kept under a bandage, because he hates seeing it or thinking about it, he hates it so much. He never looks at it while changing the bandage or even while bathing, and he makes sure no one will ever find out about it. Other than him, there was only another person who knew of its existence, and he himself doesn't exist anymore.

When he’d been small, it didn't bother him as much. It’d been just an irrelevant mark, many many people had birth marks, he knew, it shouldn't have mattered. Back then, that burn mark had just been an unquestionable fact, the way things were, and Saruhiko knew, too, about how useless it was to try and change things. But he didn't stay small forever, he grew up, and began to learn about soulmates and marks. About how there is a person for everyone, and you get a name in your body because you are _theirs,_ and they get your name in their body because they are _yours,_ and once you find that important person, you get to be _so_ happy.

Saruhiko isn't five yet, but he knows that there is something wrong because he can’t find that name anywhere, and it’s not right and it’s not fair. He knows it’s a mistake even before he asks, but he decides he needs to know, and there’s only one person who has the answer to the question that’s been burning on the back of his mind.

“Maybe the Fates decided my little monkey was meant to be alone,” was his answer.  “But don’t worry, we’ll always be together! Just imagine all the fun we’re going have!”

He claps, and Saruhiko wants to cry because that’s the thing he wants the least. He doesn't like this man, even though he’s his father and he knows he’s supposed to love him. He isn't happy with him around, that just isn't a possibility if he’s living close to this awful man. But he doesn't have a name, so maybe there is some truth here. He wants to be happy, but there isn't a name that’s his so maybe he gets this man instead. He remembers running away, barely holding his tears, but _he_ knew, and the sound of his voice followed after him.

Saruhiko is a smart child, though, and the more he things about it, the more he comes to the conclusion that something isn't adding up, and a little seed of hope is planted. Just a little, shy seed that didn't grow much but still refused to die. It was born from destruction, his precious anthill burning, and the smell of gasoline. That day when the smoke covered everything, making his eyes water so it was hard to see, and filled his throat so it was hard to breath.

A gleeful laughter, and in the future Fushimi will face many terrible people, but this sound will always be the closest thing to evil that he would ever remember.

And that’s how he _knows_. That fire is destruction, and this man is destruction. That he will destroy everything for him, burn it to ground. He knew it, before, but now it’s impossible to deny, and the thought is so raw that his only reaction is to touch his arm, protective and on instinct. That man sees it, as he sees everything, and then he laughs even harder, until it’s borderline hysterical, like he’s just been told the funniest joke on the universe.

“Yes, yes, my little monkey is so smart. He has figured it out already. Isn't this the most amazing thing?”

Like so many things regarding that man, Fushimi tells himself that’s he’s forgotten everything. That’s a lie he can’t quite believe, because sometimes just the smell of smoke is enough to make him want to throw up, years later.

**

In more than one way, his life changed after that day. By the time he’s a teenager, the lesson that he shouldn't trust anyone has been burnt into him, so to speak. Saruhiko doesn't have many precious things anymore, because he knows that they will be destroyed in the end, and he really doesn't want anything else taken from him.

Still, against all odds, there is a boy.

The thing that stands out the most is his red hair, and Saruhiko couldn't imagine him any differently. His hair is like fire, just like his personality. He was reluctant to let him close at first, because fire is still the thing he hates the most, but this boy, he was _so_ different.

Where the fire he knew was suffocating, Misaki is warm. Everything about him is warm and bright; when he smiles at him, when he takes his hand to lead him somewhere, it feels as if his entire body recognizes he is a _good thing_. His hugs, his laughter, his concern, and even the parts of him that aren't exactly nice, like his volatile temper or the way he can’t seem to understand simple math problems. Next to him it is warm, always, like the happiness he never knew could exist for him. He wants to treasure it forever.

But it always comes back to the fact that forever doesn't exist, and things will always break sooner or later. He doesn't want to let him go, though, because even if permanence is a lie, he is willing to put his most trusted fact in a suspension of disbelief. All he wants in exchange is to be close to Misaki for as long as he’s able, and maybe a little more after that.

So Saruhiko thinks, as long as he keeps a little distance, he will be fine. After all, fire has it uses, and so all he has to do is know where to stop, and he won’t get hurt. It’s not as easy as he thought it would be, because sometimes it feels as if for all their closeness, they could be something more – something _else –_ and there is an overwhelming need to take step after step, to be reckless and stupid, and get as close as two people can be.

There are even times when their eyes meet, and Saruhiko thinks Misaki _wants_ him to go closer, and those moments make it so hard to resist. They’re so hard, but he manages even though he feels like crying. In the end, he doesn't even let himself cry because he can’t allow himself to be weak or he will give in, he knows that much. Saruhiko gets used to stopping himself, repeating his routine over and over again, replacing irrational feelings with logical thoughts, building up that Misaki will break down eventually, but keeps him safe for a moment. Saruhiko knows this fire inside Misaki will destroy him, and if he thinks about it enough, it’ll give him the strength to resist.  

This internal war probably hasn't been noticed by Misaki, who’s always trying to drag Saruhiko closer and closer. He meets Misaki’s mum, who looks at him with such warmth in this eyes that it makes Saruhiko feel uncomfortable, like there’s expectations placed upon him that he surely won’t be able to live up to. He meets Misaki’s siblings, loud and annoying and endearing, much like Misaki himself. They have even taken to call him “onii-chan”, and he should hate it, all of it. But he doesn't, because he could never hate anything that Misaki loved.

Misaki is such an idealist, energetic, bright eyed boy, and Saruhiko knows there’s no way he can ever be like him, but it’s fine because as long as Misaki is close, he’ll have someone to balance all his dark spaces. Saruhiko is always counting on Misaki to be happy so can soak up in his happiness too, and it’s not surprising the moments when Misaki acted differently stood out in Saruhiko's memories.    

They were skipping class at the school’s rooftop, sitting next to each other close enough for their legs to touch, and it’s so noticeable that Misaki isn't his usual self. He’s just blushing, playing with his hands and staring straight ahead at nothing, and not at him. They've been friends for long enough that Saruhiko recognizes the signs of nervousness, and it’s confusing for two reasons. The first is that Misaki is the least self-conscious he knows, and it’s ridiculous to think that _he_ would make him nervous. The second was that this was the way Misaki usually acted around girls, and there weren't any girls on sight.      

He thinks he’s done something wrong, and he’s about to try to find out what when he hears Misaki take a long, shuddering breath.     

“Did you heard about those kids in senior class who are soulmates?” his voice sounds breathless, like he is trying to swallow a laugh he can’t control. “What are the chances, right?”    

Misaki doesn't wait for his reply, he just keeps talking, words tripping over. “Hey, Saruhiko. Have you met anyone named like your soulmate yet?”      

Saruhiko couldn't have predicted this was where their conversation was going. It’s very sudden, and he takes a moment to think about what he should say. Thousands of replies come to his mind, and he discards one after another. He doesn't want to tell him about the burn mark on his arm. He doesn't want to destroy Misaki's pure vision of soulmates, either. He doesn't want to lie and say he doesn't need one, or that he is happy on his own.        

He always thinks stupid things when he is around Misaki, and somehow _it’s you, I'm sure of it,_ feels like the perfect answer. It’s a ridiculous thought, and he’s glad he’s concentrating because if he hadn't, he would have probably just blurted it out, and then everything would have been ruined.

“I don’t have a name,” he says finally. “It’s not common but it’s not unheard of either, you know? I probably don’t have a soulmate.      

It’s a half truth, and it’s enough for him. With a name hidden so deeply beneath scar tissue, it’s almost as if he didn't have one. You can’t know who your soulmate is without a name, so the chances of finding them are laughable. It’s a technical truth.     

He sneaks a glance at Misaki, and his expression is so unbearably sad, he feels guilty instantly. Saruhiko remembers at least ten different occasions in the past two weeks in which he has talked about his soulmate. His voice is always soft and dreamy, like this invisible person is the most precious thing that exists in the whole world. It makes him jealous, he’s not even going to try to deny it, but he figures he still has a long time before this person shows up and takes Misaki away. If he worries about inevitable things that will happen in the future, he’s going to miss out on the important things he has right now.        

He knows Misaki is the kind of person who feels things close to his chest. Feelings that are his, and feelings of that belong to other people. Misaki is so kind and pure, he thinks soulmates are something wonderful, and that everyone should have one. He’s probably sad Saruhiko doesn't have one. But the truth is, he doesn't need a soulmate when he has Misaki. He doesn't feel as if he is missing anything. Saruhiko almost tells him just that, but he can’t.

“That’s just the way it,” he says instead, in an awkward attempt to comfort Misaki. Comforting other people has never been his strong suit, but for him he’ll try. “It’s not like I've ever expected it to be any different. You can’t miss something you've never had.”         

Misaki turns his head and smiles at him, and it isn't the usual warm smile because there’s something watery behind it. He’s trying to be strong, to fake happiness for Saruhiko's sake as if he couldn't see through him.        

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he says scratching his neck. “But there are things that are so important, that you dream about them, and wish for them, so maybe you can miss it anyways.”     

“I've never wished for a soulmate, really,” he lies, and he hopes he isn't as transparent as Misaki. Saruhiko just wants him to stop talking about it, because he’s starting to smell smoke, and he isn't sure he can keep this up much longer. “I'm okay with not having a soulmate. It’s too much of a hassle anyway.”

“If you’re okay, then it’s all fine.” Misaki looks down at his fidgeting hands, and adds in the softest voice. “I guess I don’t need a soulmate either.”          

That was the last time they talked about soulmates, and it’s as if a weight had been lifted from Saruhiko's shoulders. From now on, they can focus on doing amazing things and having cool adventures, and not on worrying about tying themselves to people they haven’t even met yet. Saruhiko knows this is temporary, of course, no matter how much Misaki thinks he believes it. There’s just too much love inside him to never seek out his soulmate, and he won’t ignore them when – if – they show up.                

For awhile, the thought of Misaki's soulmates matters very little, because this small word of theirs is precious and irreplaceable. It’s impossible to worry because Misaki's smile in the present outshines the future. It’s strange, feeling so safe and warm next to him, and he even thinks sometimes that this is what a home should be.

Standing side by side, ready to take on any challenge, he lets himself forget that important lesson, that good things will always be taken from him. He feels so stupid. Through the years, the memory of that man’s fire has been replaced with Misaki's fire, and he slowly started to believe that maybe it was a nice thing. How simple minded of him, how pathetic. He had it coming, after all. There was no way this could have lasted forever. Saruhiko should have known it was always meant to end.              

Fire destroys, and it’s only when he sees Suoh Mikoto's flame that he remembers. In his presence, he’s not more than a helpless, useless child. He wants to run away, he doesn't want a fire that is not Misaki's. This man is too wild and dangerous, he only need a glance to know this. He wants to leave this place and never come back, but he can’t. Saruhiko will follow any path Misaki takes, and he’s already taken those flames for himself, and he’s looking at him, smiling. Waiting. There was no way Saruhiko could have refused.

He doesn't know what kind of fool it makes him, that there’s nothing he wouldn't do for Misaki. Joining Homra hadn't been in his plans, but if he doesn't follow Misaki he’ll be left behind. It’s never a hard choice when he’s involved, Saruhiko knows he needs Misaki, to see him shine bright. He needs his warmth and his presence, because without him there’s nothing but the cold nights in an empty mansion. The only choice for Saruhiko was to follow this precious, wild boy with the fire hair and the bright eyes until the end of the world, even if it kills him.        

So he takes the Red King’s hand and for a second all he can think is that it _hurts, it hurts so much, make it stop._ It does stop eventually, and in that moment Misaki is there, hugging him, and the pain eases. He is touching his chest, “we have our marks in the same place, how cool is that”.

Everything ends in that moment. The initiation ceremony, yes, but years later Fushimi will think of this moment as the first blow that doomed their friendship to its end. It was inevitable, he will think, and that will be the conviction that will drives all of his actions.                  

But in that moment, there was a celebration. Loud and wild. That’s the essence of Homra, people who burn too bright, too hot, too fast. They welcome them as if they already think of them as their own, and it’s ridiculous. They’re all ridiculous. He’s not like them.                         

But Misaki is, isn't he? If this is the place he belongs to, then this is the place Saruhiko has to be, always by his side.           

Saruhiko endures so much for him, all these people who come too close. All this noise that makes his head hurt. They are smiling at them, kind and surely fake, and he hates everything but he can’t leave Misaki's side. And anyway, being next to Misaki, in the most literal sense, has always had a calming effect on him somehow. If they get separated, he won’t be able to breathe in this place.             

They all have their fire, and Saruhiko knows it’s dangerous. Homra is a family, they say, and for Misaki's sake he tries to believe, but it’s so hard to do it when the association between fire and family, and _run away fast_ is so strong in his mind. At the core, he doesn't want to share Misaki, he doesn't want his precious thing to be taken away from him, he doesn't know what he would do.

But he is smart, and he learns fast. When Misaki starts to spend most of his time with those guys, he knows that their comfortable days are coming to an end. From now on, it will be a matter of how long he’ll be able to hold on. Saruhiko was fine on his own before Misaki came into his life, he tells himself, and he’ll be fine after he’s gone. He’ll just make the most of what’s left.

His life turns from utter warmth, to tepid when Misaki pays attention to other people, to cold when Misaki starts to prefer them. Saruhiko doesn't know if he’s being metaphorical or if actual cold is starting to seep in under his skin, but he wants it to stop.                          

He isn't Misaki's important person anymore, and he wonders if maybe there’s something he can do to fix that. There must have been something he did wrong, and maybe if he figures out what it was and fixes it, Misaki would come back to him. But there’s always that voice in the back of his head, and it has a name and a face, and it won’t go away. He can’t ignore the thoughts that live inside him like he can the memories of the dead.                         

_“Maybe the Fates decided my little monkey was meant to be alone.”_

There’s a sob on the back of his throat, but he can’t allow it to come out. He was a weak child once, but he isn't anymore. The power he despises is still his to command, and he will admit, it’s a comfort of sorts that’s he’s become powerful. With the flames he was given, he will never be hurt he way he was in the past. Saruhiko is strong.

Misaki's warmth, he decides, is something he got used to but not something he needs. He needs none of those stupid things Misaki has been filling his head with, he doesn't need comrades or friends.

He only needs himself.

But right now, there is no one with him. No one he needs to prove his strength to. So he allows himself this much, and lets that awful one sob come out. But then he can’t stop, and he’s crying like he hasn't in years. Saruhiko is alone in what became his and Misaki's home, a precious place that doesn't feel warm or important anymore, and there is no one to witness as he curls into a ball under the blankets, and cry like a lost, small child. He hates how it feels, too much and too raw.

Saruhiko doesn't like strong feelings at all, but he’s felt so many of them since he allowed Misaki into his life. He can’t name most of them, but he knows he used to be so happy, and now it feels like the opposite. Like when he was small, but worst, because he knows how happiness feels like now. Saruhiko almost regrets meeting Misaki. If he hadn't, he wouldn't know how to miss it.

But maybe Misaki was right, all those years ago, and you can still miss the things you don’t know. Maybe somewhere out there, Misaki's soulmate is missing him. Maybe even Saruhiko's soulmate is missing him. But they don’t know each other, so it’s ridiculous to miss them. Still, he can’t help but run a delicate finger over the burn mark on his arm. Maybe if he wishes hard enough, the world will fix itself.

Saruhiko knows he’s being pathetic, but there’s no way to stop now. He wants to go back, because he _knew_ Misaki, all the stupid little details about him that he knows like the back of his hand, and because he knows him so well, he misses him so much. He wants to go back to the time when things were simple and Misaki's warmth filled every crack in his soul, so he could feel the illusion that he was whole.              

He wishes he could stop time, bend it on itself, so they could always live there. They dreamt of destroying the world, but _their_ world was sacred and important. Their world was supposed to last forever, and it would always be good. Saruhiko never wished to have many good things, he didn't trust his luck, but just one. Just one amazing thing, for him. That would be enough.

He wishes for a way to put his half formed thoughts into Misaki's mind, so he could come back to him. He can’t ask for the things he wants, and Misaki knows that. That’s why he’s the one who pushes for things and Saruhiko is the one who agrees.           

He could keep wishing for forever, but wishes are for little kids. Adults lie to children, and they tell themselves that is fine, that they’re giving them hope. They are doing that in a way, but it’s an empty sort of hope that only hurts more in the end. But even if magic were real, and if you could see your desires come true if you close your eyes and wish really hard, even if that were true, wishes wouldn't come true for someone like him.                     

Because he would loathe to stay pathetic forever, Fushimi stops trying after that day. Not that he was making a big effort before, but now it’s evident to everyone that he doesn't give a flying fuck about Homra. He enjoys the fighting, it gives him something to do, and he likes the hard evidence that he’s not weak anymore. It’s also good when Misaki is there, and in those moments if feels like they’re the team they used to be. But he doesn't let himself believe it, not anymore.                

And yet, even as Fushimi's world is nearing its absolute destruction, Misaki acts as if nothing is wrong and they’re still fine. Misaki smiles at him as if they’re the same as always, when it’s obvious that they’re not, and even if Misaki's always had trouble understanding simple things, this is something he should have noticed. The space next to him, which used to be Fushimi's and Fushimi's only, is now shared with so many meaningless people Misaki like to call their _family._ They use up all of Misaki’s warmth, until there’s nothing left for Fushimi, and he thinks, that’s not fair. Everybody has someone else, but for him it’s only Misaki. He hates them so much.            

Fushimi thinks it has come to the point where he even hates Misaki a little bit, too. After all, even if those idiots take up all of Misaki's attention, Misaki is the one who lets them. Fushimi is no longer someone he can impress him, and his presence is no longer enough for Misaki. He knows that to be true from the way Misaki looks at Suoh Mikoto, with the intensity that used to be directed at him, perhaps even more.                  

Misaki has always been Saruhiko's most important person and he will always be, but the reverse just isn't true anymore. He feels that jealousy from before, so ugly and angry, every time that the Red King is in the room and he falls out of focus. Maybe the reason why Misaki looks at him like he’s a miracle is because he has his name inscribed in his skin, and how could be compete with that? This has been doomed from the start, and it was his fault that he let himself enjoy Misaki's warmth for so long, he knows that now.                  

He always gives into what Misaki asks of him, and maybe that’s the problem. He has become invisible, just one of many, and that’s unforgivable. Misaki doesn't notice when he’s right next to him, and he doesn't notice when he’s far away. He’ll make him notice, then, he’ll make himself impossible to ignore, and Misaki will have no choice other than to look at him, and at him only.                  

Fushimi has been thinking about it for so long now. Whole things are just things, but broken things, _burnt_ things, those are the one that are remembered, carved into the skin so deep that even if the original meaning is lost, the scar still remains and reminds. Fire brings destruction, and he’s going to let it all burn, down to the ground, until it’s all ashes. An irreversible process. Their bond is so weak now, it will be much easier to break than to fix. Fixing it is probably impossible now, he won’t even bother to try.                                    

He’s been thinking, if I'm the one holding the destruction then I'm in control. If I'm the one holding the fire that burns, it won’t touch me, it won’t hurt me. He’s waiting for a chance to crush Misaki, and it presents itself in the shape of the Blue King.                          

It’s perfect, because Misaki hates the blues almost as much as he loves Suoh Mikoto. If he goes with them, he will surely he hated, reminded as the one who left him in the worst possible way. A part of him is laughing gleefully, hysterically, in the way that man would have laughed, while another is screaming at him, trying to prevent him from doing that, telling him that parting from Misaki's side is the worst possible decision that he could make.                              

He decides to ignore both, and just act. Misaki's distressed face is delicious, and focused only on him. In that moment, it doesn't matter if Misaki is angry for himself or in behalf of Homra, because he’s always had a one tracked mind, and if his feelings are strong enough, they block out everything else. Fushimi wants to be that, forever.                              

That look on his face is a new one. He has seen it directed to other people, but never to Fushimi. It’s an expression full of hate, and he’s looking at him as he would to a dangerous enemy. It means it worked, and he’s a traitor in Misaki's eyes from now on. It makes Fushimi feel like that man, when he burnt his precious things. Fushimi knows how terrible that is, and how that’s  a testament of how far he’s gone, but it doesn't matter anymore. He has been so cold for so long that he’s frozen solid, and he needed fire. Any kind of fire.                              

And Fushimi is desperate, even if he won’t say it out loud. Right now, it matters very little _how_ Misaki looks at him as long as he is looking. It has been so long that he’s had his undivided attention, and this broken world is his is alright for one last time. Fushimi is his whole world, the way Misaki has always been his. What was it that they said, even negative attention is attention? Misaki's hatred is hotter than his friendship. He doesn't need his friendship.

This time, he will do things right. He won’t let this fire of Misaki's grow weak on him, at all costs he will keep it alive and angry, so close that the burn mark in his chest will never heal. It will be a permanent reminder that good feelings are not meant to last. It will something to remember Misaki by.                 

And if he could put a mark on Misaki's skin, wouldn't that be wonderful. That way, he will also have something that will remind him of Fushimi. He wouldn't be able to forget him this time. He thinks about it seriously, and he remembers that once he thought himself incapable of ever hurting Misaki, and he reaches the conclusion that the marking can wait.                      

But when everything is said and done, he still needs to leave. There is the promise of a violent reunion, but for now, he needs to go to Scepter 4. He lives there now, and even though the place he used to live with Misaki ended up cold and empty, it was still his. _Theirs_. This new place is just for him to sleep, and it will never mean anything. That’s fine, too. Things like making good memories are useless and stupid, and he doesn't need them.                     

He had no expectations of this place, other than it’ll be different from Homra, and he’s surprised to find out that it’s not as bad as he first expected. There is real work to be done in the first place, and he’s thankfully allowed to do most of it alone. He doesn't have to interact with people much, and even if the Captain insists on drinking parties as a part of their work, they’re not as unbearable as those endless days at the bar.                              

People here, they are annoying sometimes too. They do their work decently, but his subordinates and e _specially_ his superiors still like to talk about useless things. Ridiculous concepts that they honestly believed in with all their might, like right and wrong, or like justice. Those kind of things can only exist in the mind of naïve people, and Fushimi isn't one.                           

Scepter 4 is grandiose looking, and it doesn't fit Fushimi at all. There’s the protocol and the bureaucracy, and he hates that, he ignores those as often as he can. This place isn't comfortable, but it’s not supposed to be. This is work, and there is a purpose here. It may be based on stupid ideals, but at least the way they fought for it was the opposite of Homra. People fighting with efficiency and logic, following an action plan and not based on senseless violence. Things get done by soldiers, not by petty criminals.                  

Even the bonds people make here are different. There is no senseless talk of _family_ , even if they still talk about being _comrades_. It’s annoying, but Fushimi knows that when all the fancy words are taken out, what remains is that they’re coworkers who will inevitably get to know each other out of routine and convenience. After all, he concedes, people fight better when they know their companions. This also means that the bonds within Scepter 4 are weaker and could break at any given moment. Basically, there’s nothing to be treasured here. Fushimi knows this to be a fact.

Fushimi is done treasuring things, but the people here don’t know that, and they try to get close to him. He can recognize something akin to warmth, but it’s so _so_ wrong. Maybe they mean well, maybe they don’t, but kindness to him has always been a prelude to betrayal. He won’t allow it to happen ever again, so he has to be careful.

Those gentle feelings, they make him feel sick now, he doesn't want them. His general disposition, or lack thereof, is a clear sign that he doesn't want anyone to talk to him, and yet there are people who keep trying. It really confuses Fushimi, why are they spending all this effort trying to get him to socialize when they could be writing their reports? Maybe, just maybe, they are sincere and this time it won’t end up with him being left behind.

Fushimi should really stop filling his head with stupid things. He doesn't want those bonds and he doesn't need them either. Even if he wanted to, it is a terribly risky chance to take for people whose warmth is wrong. Only Misaki had the right kind of warmth, and it turned out to be the most destructive in the end, so that, at least, should have taught him something.     

He still feels the consequences of letting Misaki so close, and every day he’s more convinced it was a terrible idea. What was the point of feeling happy for a little bit if it would all come crumbling down later?              

Before they became enemies, Fushimi had been feeling so cold he thought there was nothing worse than that, but he had been so wrong. What he felt back then had left him numb, but right now everything in his body hurts so much he can barely breathe. It could be horrible if he were weak, but he is not. Misaki is gone from his life forever, and he is strong enough on his own. But if he pretends and ignores the pain, then everything will be okay. Ignoring things is easy, almost an afterthought, and he doesn't need Misaki.                           

He puts work as a first priority, and so it happens there is always a lot of work to be done. Fushimi doesn't particularly care about the quality of his work as long as it occupies all his time, even if it is the meaningless paperwork he hates so much. The Blue King looks at him with something close to amusement, like there is something that is not quite right with him and he’s having fun watching him. He doesn't comment on it though, and Fushimi is relieved. He couldn't explain himself even if he wanted to.                         

The years pass by him, and he can’t quite believe he was once Misaki's close friend, now that the distance between them seems too great to mend. He doesn't want to mend it. He has much more important things he needs to do now that he's third-in-command. There is just too much work involved in his position to be able to waste his time thinking about meaningless things.                      

That’s what he tells himself, and yet there’s no denying that he still feels a pull to Misaki and so he seeks him out sometimes. He needs to pop into his life once in a while, since it’s clear that Misaki needs the reminder. There is something so profoundly unfair in the way that Misaki occupied the entirely of Fushimi's world, and then destroyed it, and yet he looks so unaffected. So many times he has seen him from afar, as he laughs with his _precious friends_ , and that’s unfair. He was second to them then, and he is second to them still, and Misaki can be happy, as if all the things festering between them aren't more than a bad dream he can shake off in the morning.                        

Misaki needs to be reminded of him, and that’s what Fushimi does so gladly. He fights, he kicks and throws sharp knives and sharper words so Misaki is forced to look at him, and only at him. This thing they do only grants him short, temporary attention, and he knows this isn't real. But it doesn't hurt him, because he’s the only doing the hurting. It doesn't sting, because he’s above it.

His comfort is that Misaki fights back so strongly, so beautiful. In those artificial moments, they make a new world and it’s glorious. There is a persistent feeling of rage that comes from Misaki and it’s so wonderful. It’s the destructive flames, but it doesn't hurt any more than the cold. And afterwards, he is warm. Misaki's hatred can keep him warm for a long time, he finds, so there’s no need to seek him out all the time.

There is, in fact, no need for Misaki at all. But is this fun, isn't it? The fighting is fun, the destruction is fun. He needs a break from all the paperwork he has to do, and engaging Misaki feels so warm. He won’t get this kind of feeling in Scepter 4, and trying to find it someplace else would just be bothersome. It's just easier and more convenient to get his warmth from Misaki, so that's what he does. That’s all there is to it.

He hesitates sometimes, and Fushimi does his best to ignore it. They would be in the middle of a battle, and from time to time he would get the intrusive urge to protect Misaki. It’s ridiculous, he doesn't need anyone to tell him that, but it still happens.                    

Sometimes he’d see Misaki being reckless, flying in his skate directly into the path of his sword, and he’d think “No, Misaki. You have to stop being an idiot and run away from me, because I'm going to hurt you. I don’t want you to be hurt, please leave. Turn your back on me and never look back.”             

But he won’t think about it, because that’s just his mind tricking him. He likes a challenge, so he’s making this harder on himself. That must be it, because he knows the only way they can interact now is whilst fighting, and if that goes away then he would just be erased from Misaki's life and memories, and Fushimi has spent too much time and energy into this. There’s no other way to be close to Misaki anymore, all their happier possibilities have been destroyed efficiently in Fushimi's capable hands.

There’s this thing that feels like guilt, but he ignores it too. Fushimi can’t be feeling guilty because this is what he wanted, Misaki's attention and not his affections. It pops up whenever he winces in pain, or looks horrified at the knives thrown at him, and especially when he looks at him with shy hope, as if Fushimi could go back to him anytime and be welcomed. But it must be disappointment, since Misaki doesn't hate him fully yet, but they have time.                        

There is something he can’t name that he feels whenever he fights Misaki, and that too has to be destroyed, alongside Misaki's useless feelings. Misaki doesn't fully understand that the boy he knew from middle school is dead and gone, and that Fushimi will never go back to him.                             

He has no other choice than to destroy.

Work is mostly tedious paperwork, but not always. Sometimes there are things that need to be done in the field, and Fushimi has to go. He enjoys it in the same way he enjoys fighting Misaki, but not as intensely. The adrenaline makes his blood warm as it courses through his veins, and it clears his head of useless, repetitive thoughts. There is only a mission to be completed.

This time, the mission was more dangerous than usual. Strains tend to be one of two types: scared people who lash out recklessly, or stupid people who just want to try their power. Rarely do they encounter a strain that wants to hurt and kill for the sake of it. They have to extreme their precautions for this case.

The thing is, hurting someone means hurting their soulmate, too. After all, that’s how it works. There’s someone in the world so close to your being that you feel how they feel. The good things, but the painful things, too. Sometimes is a simple thing, like sore muscles or an unpleasant stomach ache after eating too much, and you feel it vaguely. And yet other times, the pain is unbearable, as if it’s not enough to contain in one body and it overflows through the bond. Nobody wants to share that sort of pain.

That means, of course, that the plans for capturing the strain are tiresome and overcautious. Scepter 4 has established backup plans for the backup plans, and while Fushimi appreciates order, he works his best outside it. The main troops are fine following rules, but it tends to be bothersome and inefficient, which is why he ends up going on his own. He finds the strain easily enough and he fights.

In the back of his mind, Fushimi thinks that this strain isn't as terrifying as everyone thought. They weren't the most powerful, or the most skilled in battle. Maybe it was just that people were too afraid to go near them, and so they won the battle before it started.

Fushimi knows that the trickiest thing about a battle is to control the target when they start to panic. He’s prepared for it, for the supernatural, and so it surprises him when he feels something sharp in his stomach. He looks down to see the blood flowing, and the strain touches his forehead and he falls down, down to ground.

Before his body feel the impact, everything is black.


	2. Chapter 2

Everything is black and soundless, but it doesn’t last very long. Fushimi is lying on the ground, and it’s cold and wet and gross, but when he tries to move, he finds that he can’t. He can hear the sound of footsteps becoming louder and louder, until they’re right next to him. For a moment, he thinks it’s the strain who’s returned to finish him off for good, but then he hears someone panicking, calling for help. Fushimi isn’t grateful for the concern, though. The idiot is too loud, and he wants to tell him to stop shouting because his head hurts, and that’s when he realizes he can’t speak. He can’t even open his eyes.

* * *

 

Everything is black once again. There’s nothing connecting him to the real world, so he knows he’s not awake; but because he _knows_ he’s not awake, he thinks that in a way, he’s conscious. Fushimi doesn’t know what _that_ means but if nothing else, he figures he’s alive for now.

It’s a very strange situation. In any other given circumstance, Fushimi would try to gather clues and figure out what was happening and how to fix it, but there’s nothing to analyze except for the obvious fact that this is the strain’s doing, so he doesn’t even waste his energy trying. This is a very obvious “wait-and-hope-for-the-best” scenario. He hates it, but he doesn’t have a choice.

Saruhiko has never been a very big fan of life, generally speaking, but he doesn’t want to die. He really, _really,_ doesn’t want to die. Not right now, and not like this.

* * *

 

Consciousness comes back to him, and all he can feel is pain. Hot, constant pain, nothing like he’s ever felt before. The way the light hits his face and everything sounds dull, his best guess is he’s in surgery.

Time means nothing in the state he’s in, but it feels eternal. He feels every single slice of the surgical knife and every single stitch, and he yells inside his mind but there’s no way to let anyone know. Fushimi hears the doctors say stuff like, ‘too young’ and ‘has his whole life ahead of him’, and just like the medical terms he keeps hearing, those words mean nothing to him.

* * *

 

Fushimi doesn’t notice the transitions, one moment he’s in reality and the other he’s in a void. While being conscious is frustrating, being here is frightening. There’s the blackness of closed eyes, and the blackness of nothing.

There’s no way to stop this. If this is really the strain’s power, and he truly hopes so, it’ll be over eventually. He isn’t optimistic enough to wish for _soon_ , though. There are too many variables involved with this sort of issues, and his experience has showed him that it pays to expect the worst.

Fushimi has done many terrible things in his life, and this almost feels like a punishment of sorts. Maybe he’ll get used to this, like he’s gotten used to so many unpleasant things before. But there’s nothing to get used to here. There’s nothing, and he’s alone.

* * *

 

Fushimi is on a bed, and he’s very acutely aware of the fact he’s alive. He can feel his chest rise and fall on its own, and his heart beat at its own pace. If that’s the case, then what the strain took away from him isn’t function, but _control_ , of his body. This realization makes him angrier, and he starts planning all the ways he could seriously injure the strain without killing them.

“I want to see him!” Fushimi hears the screaming right outside his room.

He could have recognized Misaki’s panicked, demanding voice anywhere. Misaki is here, and Fushimi doesn’t know if he should be happy because he cared enough to come, or disappointed, because if Misaki is here, then he clearly doesn’t hate him enough yet.

The noise outside decreases, and he doesn’t hear Misaki’s arguments anymore. The only sound that accompanies him is a beeping machine. That’s his heart, he realizes. It’s weird to listen, especially because he’s concentrating so hard he can tell it’s a little out of sync with the drumming in his chest, but it’s steady, and proof he’s alive. 

The next sound is a door creaking open, and the sound of someone taking a loud, shuddering breathe.  

“Saruhiko,” Misaki says, in a voice that’s too quiet and too broken, and just on the verge of crying.

Somehow hearing it makes Fushimi want to cry, too.

* * *

 

There was a time when it was the two of them against the world, when Fushimi was Misaki’s most important person, and he believed nothing would ever take them apart. Those days are long gone, and Fushimi will say to anyone, especially to Misaki himself, that he’s forgotten them. Unimportant things go away easily, after all.

But here, in this space where there’s nothing tangible and there’s nothing to distract him from his own mind, memories surfaced and refused to die. Since this place is like a nightmare, the most persistent ones were the ones he had of _that man,_ and if he wants to ignore them, the one choice he has is to remember the good times he had with Misaki, when they were dumb, stupid children. All in all, it isn’t a hard choice to make.

Fushimi remembers a day Misaki had invited him to stay at his house, when they were still in middle school.

“Mom and dad have things to do, so we’ll be alone,” he’d said. Misaki’s eyes had been bright and his voice, excited. Saruhiko got the impression Misaki thought those were the magic words that would get him to agree, and he was fine letting him think that. In reality, though, he would have said yes to anything if it meant spending more time with Misaki.

But that was a secret.

* * *

 

The sound of crying is muffled, and there is a weight on his chest. Fushimi knows immediately who it is, because how could he not. For the first time, he’s glad his body isn’t listening to him, because the urge to touch him back, to run his fingers through his chest and up and down his back, would have been impossible to resist otherwise. Fushimi never imagined there would a day, after everything, when he’d be so close to Misaki again.

(Best to enjoy it while it lasts, then.)

“What were you thinking, doing that sort of dangerous thing on your own? You’re so smart but you do the most stupid things, too.” Misaki’s conversation was obviously one-sided, but Fushimi got the distinct impression that he still hoped, even a little bit, that he would reply. “I should have been there to protect you.”

It hurts. It hurts, more than surgery, more than the strain’s attack. Misaki’s concern hurts more than anything. Fushimi wants him to stop talking, and just get up and go away. Misaki should leave, now.

“Hurry up and wake up, idiot. I-”

* * *

 

It was raining, but since they both had umbrellas, it should have been just fine. Except Misaki was wild and impulsive most of the times, but also oddly chivalrous at the most inconvenient of times. He insisted they should lend their umbrellas to the group of girls squinting at the sky, attempting to make the gray cloud go out with the power of their angry glares alone.

Saruhiko should have complained. He had many reasons to; they didn’t even know the girls in the first place, and the fact that they couldn’t really leave school if they gave their umbrellas away. Misaki hated school as much as he did, and now they were going to have to spend more time in it.

But he didn’t, because Misaki’s cheeks were red and he had an embarrassed look on his face that was so endearing that overwrote all other thoughts. Mostly, though, he didn’t complain because Misaki didn’t give him a chance to. He just grinned and grabbed his wrist, to pull him along.

They started running, and they didn’t stop until they got to Misaki’s place. He should have complained then, since he was tired and breathless from the running, and wet from the rain, but he didn’t, because at some point during their race, Misaki’s hand had slipped and he was now holding Saruhiko’s hand instead.

* * *

 

Misaki wasn’t speaking anymore, but he was there, the warm weight on top of his chest was proof of that. He wasn’t crying either, instead his breathing was deep and regular, and in time with his own. So, Misaki was sleeping on him? It wasn’t as terrible as it could have been, especially because he had been careful enough to avoid touching his wound.

The mission had taken place in the late afternoon, and from there, Fushimi had a vague idea of time. If he was right, it meant Misaki had been allowed to stay in his room after visiting hours, and that was extremely confusing. Had he been allowed because he looked like a small child, and people had the tendency to be nicer to children? Probably no, since the common delinquent look would ruin the illusion of innocence. Then, why?

Fushimi knew he wouldn’t find the answer, but it didn’t bother him. Misaki was here, after, for whatever reason it was. Misaki was here, and it felt nice.

* * *

 

Saruhiko couldn’t complain, not with Misaki’s warm hand in his, but inside his mind, he still felt annoyed. It wasn’t his current circumstances necessarily, but the fact that time after time, he would do stupid things if Misaki was around him.

If Misaki ever came up with a terrible idea, his way of acting was always ignoring how bad that idea was, doing things anyway, and then try to fix whatever problems his reckless acting caused. In this case, Misaki takes one look at Saruhiko, and tell him he can go ahead and take the shower first. There’s a dryer they can use, and in the meantime, Misaki has some oversized clothes that he’s sure will fit Saruhiko just fine.

But Misaki isn’t in the slightest bit sorry, Saruhiko can tell, with the bounce of his step and the smile in his face, but even so, he’s trying to be a good host and take care of him. Misaki likes to take care of people, he’s noticed, and Saruhiko is often in the receiving end of that treatment. It’s a warm and pleasant feeling. His and Misaki’s friendship is like this, Saruhiko wants to spend all his time with him, and he misses him when they’re not together.

The warm water is comforting, and the clothes Misaki left for him are just a little too small for him, but it’s okay. While he’s in the bathroom, he hears Misaki running around in the kitchen, and eventually the smell of food reaches him too. It’s a futile thought, but Saruhiko thinks that if they could live like this forever, it’d be good.

* * *

 

“…too long, you need to leave this room.” Fushimi was fairly certain that the voice he heard belonged to Kusanagi-san.

“I’m not leaving him alone,” Misaki replied, stubborn as always, and Fushimi felt the hand holding his tightening as he spoke.

“I’m sure we’d find someone who would gladly take your place while you’re gone, but that’s not the point.” Kusanagi-san let out a heavy sigh. “I’m more worried about you, right now. The nurses told me you haven’t left the room since you were allowed in…”

“Why, is that a bad thing?” Misaki’s hold on Fushimi’s hand tightened impossibly more.

“Nobody is saying it’s a bad thing, but I know how you can get whenever Fushimi-kun is involved. I just want to make sure you’re eating and sleeping properly.”

The room fell silent, and Fushimi was almost completely sure that Kusanagi-san words had taken Misaki by surprise. He was always so single minded.

“I’m not leaving,” Misaki said again, finally.

Misaki’s concern wasn’t surprising, but it still annoyed Fushimi. Ever since they went their separate ways, Misaki’s sadness and concern made Fushimi _want_ , and in turn, that want make his resolve to hate even stronger. He couldn’t do anything right now, and his frustration was impossibly high, so he promised himself that as soon as he woke up, Fushimi would throw Misaki out of the room and take delight in seeing his painful face.

“I thought you might say that.” Kusanagi san let out a resigned sigh. “The hospital has a cafeteria, did you know that? The food is not exactly the best but it’s enough. It’s very close, too. Take care of yourself, Yata.”

The door opened and clicked shut, and then it was Misaki’s turn to let out a sigh. He readjusted his grip on Fushimi’s hand. It was clammy and just on the side of too tight, but still Misaki didn’t let go. “I know I should go eat, Saru, but what if you wake up and I’m not here, I can’t risk it. So you should hurry and wake up, Saruhiko. I’m waiting for you.”

Misaki’s voice sounded like he was trying really hard not to break down and cry. A valiant effort, no doubt, but moments later Saruhiko felt warm drops of water falling on his hand.

* * *

 

While the rain outside kept falling relentlessly, they ate food and played games. It was raining still when it got so late both of them had trouble keeping their eyes open, and Misaki smiled sleepily at and commented on what a great idea it was for you to stay over, Saruhiko, you don’t have an umbrella so you would have gotten wet, after all.

Saruhiko didn’t say that Misaki was the idiot who gave his umbrella away and that’s why he didn’t have it, and he didn’t say that he would have stayed, rain or not rain, because when Misaki asked him to come over he’d looked so hopeful, and there had been no way he’d ever say no to him.

The rain kept falling down, although much more gently, after they went to bed. They had to share Misaki’s small bed, since apparent there weren’t any spare futons in the house. Saruhiko had never shared a bed before, so he wasn’t prepared for the lack of space between their bodies.

It was hard sleeping, not just because Misaki’s back was touching his. Mostly, it was because Misaki just wouldn’t quit moving around, and it kept Saruhiko awake, even though he was really tired, and the warm from their bodies made him even sleepier. He felt he’d fall asleep sooner or later, whether Misaki kept fidgeting or not.

That was the only reason why he didn’t reply when Misaki whispered.

“Hey, Saru. Are you awake?” he sounded so nervous, and it piqued Saruhiko’s curiosity. He didn’t think it was possible for Misaki to careful around him, when it felt like he knew all there was to know about Misaki. “Heh, I guess you’re asleep,” he giggled, breathless. “Then this will just have to be practice, okay? It’d really be unfair if you’re actually awake, Saru, so please sleeping.”

* * *

 

“Please wake up. Do you hear me, Saruhiko? You have to wake up, now. I know you love annoying me, but you’re taking this too far. It’s not funny anymore, you’re taking too long to wake up. Even the doctors said so.” Misaki’s voice was breathless, but not in the excited way he remembered from his memories. Instead, he just seemed desperate. 

“You’re just a lazy, troublesome guy. But you need to wake up. Saruhiko. If you don’t… There’s something important I need to tell you, okay? And I know I should have told you before, but I really couldn’t. I’m ready now, though, so I’ll tell you once you wake up. I promise.”

“Hey, Saru. I hate this so much.” Misaki’s voice was a soft sound, not quite resigned, but not hopeful either. “Please stop it. I think I like fighting better than this, you know, and I really _really_ hate fighting. There’s still so much we have to do. You can’t leave me, so wake up.”

* * *

“Please don’t wake up while I do this.”  Saruhiko’s eyes were closed, and even if they hadn’t been, the room was too dark to see. Even so, he knew Misaki was blushing. Saruhiko waited for Misaki to speak, but all he heard was silence.

“Ok, then. Here I go.” Misaki said finally, and took a deep breath. “Saruhiko, you are… No. I have… Damn it, this is harder than I thought. I… I can’t do this, after all. “

With a somewhat defeated sigh, Misaki shifted in a more comfortable position, pressing his face and arms to Saruhiko’s back. “You are so important to me,” he said. “I wish I could say it. I wish I could tell you how precious you are.”

Saruhiko didn’t ask what it was that Misaki really wanted to say. Not then, not later. It seemed like a secret that was never revealed to him. Maybe, if he’d been a little braver and spoke up, he would have known. But in that moment, it felt so good to be close to Misaki that he couldn’t risk saying the wrong thing and ruining everything.

In the end, he really did ruin everything, and the secret still remained Misaki’s alone.

* * *

 

For the first time, the welcome back to the real world is just silence. Fushimi can only hear dull, artificial sounds. The air conditioning. The machine that beats almost in time with his heart. He’s alone, and it’s not as much of a comfort as he thought it might be.

He doesn’t need Misaki, not anymore. And Misaki, well, he’s never needed him either. Misaki is an idealistic little boy at heart, and he’s only here because of his own selfish reasons. His own hero complex, his own regrets. It has nothing to do with Fushimi, not really.

Fushimi wants to be able to say that to himself with conviction, but when the door opens and he knows Misaki is back, he feels relief. He hates himself for it, but he can’t help it. Inside his own mind, he’s still a weak child. No matter how far away he tries to run, everything, always, comes back to Misaki.

“I’m back, Saruhiko,” Misaki says softly, and Fushimi notices his voice isn’t as distressed anymore. He’s glad. He hates it.

“I really didn’t want to leave but the nurses wouldn’t let me eat in the room, so I had to go to the cafeteria. This food is terrible, you’re going to hate it. But I mean, you hate everything so no surprise there. I’ll get you better food to eat, promise. And when you’re better and you’re out of the hospital you can come over and I’ll cook for you, anything you want. I won’t even put vegetables in, just this once.”

It wasn’t that Misaki wasn’t as affected, Fushimi noticed. He could tell, given the strain in his voice, that he was trying really hard to be optimistic. “I ran into the doctor when I was getting back. She said there’s probably something wrong with you, because you’re taking too long to wake up after surgery, but she doesn’t know you like I do. You’re just taking extra long to wake up because you want to annoy me. You’re really terrible, aren’t you, Saru?”

“Anyway, she said you’re gonna be in bad shape when you wake up but I’m sure you’ll get back to normal in no time. You’re going to be okay. I know you will. Even Anna said so, and she’s always right. So, I’m not losing hope. You’re going to be fine.”

Yes, Fushimi was going to be okay. He knew that already, logically. Strain powers weren’t eternal, it would end eventually, sooner if Scepter 4 managed to catch the strain and revert the effect, or later if he just waited it out. He knew his problem wasn’t medical. Fushimi knew all of it. Still, hearing confirmation from Anna managed to ease his apprehensions more than anything.

“When you wake up,” Misaki says, his voice dropping to a soft sound, and Fushimi notices for the first time that he always says _when,_ never _if._ “I’m going to tell you a secret. Well, I guess it’s a secret because I never told you, but maybe you already know. I can’t wait to tell you, so you should definitely hurry up and wake up, Saru.

“We’re all waiting for you to come home.”

* * *

 

This is a memory, he knows that. But this is the first time he accepts that it happened. Maybe he forgot, maybe he convinced himself that it wasn’t real. Right now, with nowhere to hide, there’s no question that it happened.

Saruhiko felt nothing but warmth. He was sleeping on his back, and the soft weight of Misaki’s body on top of him was nothing but a comfort. Outside, the rain was still falling, but it was a gentle sound now, growing fainter and fainter as the storm neared its end. The usual thoughts in Saruhiko’s mind, about the multiple ways things could go wrong, were unusually absent. He wasn’t even questioning whatever this thing with Misaki meant. All he could feel was warm contentment, and it was good.

The peace was somewhat broken when Misaki stirred a little and he moved in his sleep trying to get to a more comfortable position. Saruhiko held his breath then, because he didn’t want to disturb his sleep – he didn’t want this moment to end – but Misaki ended up waking up soon anyway. Saruhiko kept his eyes closed and feigned sleep. This proximity couldn’t have been intentional, and the last thing he wanted was to make things uncomfortable.

When Misaki moved and a space formed between their bodies, Saruhiko’s stomach clenched. It was the loss of warmth, he told himself, and nothing else. It took him a second to realize that Misaki hadn’t really moved away, though. Saruhiko could almost _feel_ how he was looking at him, and doing nothing but looking at him.

“I can’t say it yet,” Misaki whispered. Nobody had ever spoken to Saruhiko with that sort of voice, so warm and pure, and the feelings he couldn’t name took a hold of his entire body. “I really want to say it, but right now it’s too difficult. But one day. I promise, one day I’ll be ready so you have to be patient and stay with me until that times comes. And then you have to stay him me all the days that come after, too.”

Of course I will, Saruhiko wanted to say. But he couldn’t, because breathing was hard and words were even harder when Misaki gently brushed his fringe aside, and then pressed his lips to his own. It was barely a second, and innocent in the way only Misaki could be, but it still sent his heart racing. Then it was over, and Misaki once again laid down on Saruhiko’s chest.

Misaki probably knew Saruhiko was awake since his heartbeat was so noticeable, but he didn’t say anything. Saruhiko didn’t say anything either, because it was late, and he was tired and warm, and so happy, and while the last drops of rain were falling outside, they slept.

* * *

 

Coming back to reality felt more like a seamless transition than the abrupt realization he’d almost come to expect. It almost felt like he was still inside his memories. It was in the faint pitter-patter of rain, and in the soft warm bed he was lying it. Most importantly, it was in the head resting on his chest and the soft sounds of the breathing matching his.

But it wasn’t a memory, and Fushimi realized it in the louder sound of the beeping machine, and in his inability to move. In that moment, he desperately wanted his body back. If he could, he’d get up and shake Misaki off, yell until his throat became raw. He’d do everything, anything, to make Misaki understand that their days of friendship are long gone and never coming back. To make Misaki see that continuing to hope for that sort of things was useless and tiresome, and to get him to finally hate him the way he was supposed to, so Fushimi could also finally hate Misaki, too.

If he could, he’d definitively say those things. But thinking like that is useless, and he doesn’t want to waste his time trying to come up with new ways to make Misaki hate him. There will be time for that later, when everything is back to normal. Because things aren’t normal, he allows the warm feeling of Misaki next to him fill all of the cold spaces in his soul, just like before.

Fushimi finds it impossible to stop the longing bubbling up inside him. Misaki had kissed him once, all those years ago, when they were but insignificant little boys. It had been one time, never before and never again. He can’t help but wonder why, even though it’s more than obvious that he can’t understand Misaki’s way of thinking anymore. But he tries, because there’s nothing else he can do.

Maybe Misaki had been curious and just wanted to try kissing, and after that curiosity had been resolved there was no reason to kiss again. As his closest friend, it made sense he’d try that sort of thing with Saruhiko. There was nobody else he would have tried with, especially because Misaki had always been a literal blushing virgin.

Experienced or not, Misaki is the most unbound person he knows. Fushimi knows, if Misaki gets something into his head, nothing can stop him; and if there’s something he doesn’t want to do, there’s no way in heaven or hell to convince him. The conclusion in this case is clear. Misaki wanted to kiss Saruhiko once in the past, and only then.

Fushimi doesn’t understand fully why Misaki has been staying by his side, but it can’t be because he cares. How could he. Misaki probably feels guilty for how their friendship ended. He isn’t here for Fushimi, he’s here for _himself._ When he wakes up, he thinks vaguely, he’ll tell Misaki he ruined everything, made his life miserable and he’ll never forgive him. If pride is truly the most important thing to him, then maybe that way Misaki will truly hate him.

Fushimi wants to focus on thoughts like that, full of anger and destruction. But in this peaceful moment, the tiny part of him that feels far too innocent and powerless is the part that takes control, and Fushimi doesn’t fight it much.

This side of him is quiet, but unstoppable if he gives it the chance. The feels nothingness come back to him, but it doesn’t feel as oppressive. All his thoughts are focused on how nice it would feel to kiss Misaki again, and how he’d do anything to be able to hold Misaki again.

* * *

 

This is not a memory, and that he knows for sure. This is wishful thinking.

The burn mark on his arm is gone. Maybe it healed, or he never got it in the first place. Instead, there’s Misaki’s name on him, and Saruhiko’s name on Misaki. It’s not perfect, and it’s not like he’d trust “perfect” in the first place, but he’s happy. Even when the days are difficult and he can’t trust Misaki’s affections, he has proof that his most important person won’t leave.

They still live together, and he can’t decide if it’s their old apartment or if they moved somewhere nicer, but the physical place matters very little. When Saruhiko comes home – because the place where both of them is a home, filled with precious memories – the first thing he sees is Misaki’s smiling, welcoming smile. The second thing he’ll notice is the smell of delicious food. Then, he’ll feel the press of soft lips against his, over and over again, until he loses count. Saruhiko likes that a lot.

There will be hard times, but he’ll always have Misaki by his side. His safe place will be Misaki’s embrace, and his hold will be strong and firm in a way words won’t be able to describe. Misaki is soft, too, when he kisses the top of his head. Even though it would be embarrassing if anyone else saw him like this, because it’s Misaki he won’t care. With his face buried in Misaki’s neck and the murmur of comforting words, he’s safe and he has nothing to fear.

Sometimes they’d go out, and they hold hands, just because it’s the natural thing to do. The best part is always the light pink on Misaki’s cheeks, even after all this time. It’s fine, Saruhiko would think. He likes it when Misaki blushes, especially because he knows he’s the reason. Misaki is a little embarrassed and maybe he’ll always be, but that’s also fine. If he can’t help the embarrassing blush then Saruhiko also can’t help the embarrassing little smile. In this too, they match.

It’s this kind of things Fushimi wants, even if he knows he can’t have them, will never have them. He’ not an idiot, so he doesn’t bother thinking about them. The warmth he feels while deluding himself feels nice, yes, but when he stops lying to himself the world feels ten times colder. It’s worth the trouble, it really isn’t.

It almost makes Fushimi want to stay in this darkness forever. If he never wakes up, they’ll be no consequences for thinking foolish things. If it doesn’t end, it won’t hurt. But the end always comes, Fushimi knows that, too. He thinks, maybe he can stay in the darkness forever. If he never wakes up again, then he can fool himself and it won’t hurt because it won’t end. But it does, it always does.

* * *

 

The second he wakes up, he knows the strain effect is gone. Even without moving and stretching his body the way he wants to, he knows he’s free. He only moves a little when the hand clasped in his tightens, and Fushimi reconsiders. Everyone will know he’s back to normal soon after this, but he’s not ready to let Misaki go just yet. Just a little longer.

“Kusanagi-san called to say your Blues finally caught the strain.” Misaki’s voice is carefully optimistic, like he’s so ready to be happy at the slightest sign, and it makes Fushimi’s chest hurt without his permission. It’s pure and precious things like these that are the most easily destroyed. “It’s kind of amazing what government officials can do when they want to. I mean, the scumbag had this reputation of being impossible to catch, and they got him in less than week. That’s impressive.”

“So anyway, Kusanagi-san he told me they’re going to use the _most efficient methods available,_ whatever that means. I think it means torture. I _hope_ it means torture. Does that make me a terrible person?” Misaki’s hand is steady, but Fushimi feels him bouncing up and down, in impatient excitement.

That was the thing about Misaki. His body had always been too small to contain all of his emotions. Misaki could never lie, and his words were always honest, but it was his body that was easier to understand.

“Anyway! That means you’re gonna get better soon! And then we’ll finally get the fuck out of this stupid hospital. Oh, and the doctor said your stomach wound was nothing too terrible. I mean, you lost a lot of blood but that bastard didn’t hit anything important. You’ll be back to your annoying self in no time!”

“I mean – I hope you wake up soon and everything goes back to normal, right? But we can have a better normal, you know? I know we’re still fighting and everything, but we don’t have to. We can definitely be friends again, all you need to do is tell me what I did wrong and I’ll fix it, I promise.  

I know things can’t exactly be like before, but they can be better than _now._ We’ll start over, and it’ll be better than before, for sure. I’m sure everything will work out. I just really want my best friend back, so hurry up and wake up, stupid monkey.”

Misaki’s words hurt. It hurt so much. But…

“Your hair’s gotten too long,” he said softly, brushing his fringe aside. “I almost want to cut it myself. We used to do that, remember? I can do it for you if you want, when you wake up.”

 ….in a strange way Fushimi couldn’t quite understand, it was a good hurt.

“There’s so many things we have to do when you wake up.” It was weird, hearing Misaki speak in the soft tenderness voice he’d come to associate with dreams and long lost memories. “And so many important things, too. It’s been long enough, okay Saru? It’s time to come home.”

This time, he didn’t feel the pull of darkness, that was gone now. Instead, it was Misaki’s caring voice and gentle touch that lulled him to sleep. There was the edge of discomfort, knowing he was allowing Misaki to do these things when he could have stopped him if he wanted to. But he didn’t want him to stop. He had given himself permission. Just a little longer. He wasn’t awake for real, yet. Nobody had to know.

The last time sleep had come so easily to Saruhiko had been years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took 4567.2% longer than i expected

**Author's Note:**

> it took me a fucking year to write this


End file.
